Nyctophoβia
by Anna Marcelli Palmer
Summary: I made myself skinny for you. I did my hair the way you like. Ain't I pretty in this sea of flowers? (a b-day gift for the infamous Cornwallace)


**Nyctophoβia**

_a story by A.M. Palmer_

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><p><em>And the Cornwallace sez, he sez, "Give me a Sawnick fanfiction". <em>

_._

_._

_._

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><p><strong><em>~Lover and Loved, Living and dead<br>I 'm watching you leave through my flowery bed._**

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><p><em>(((((Look at me)))))))<em>

There is essentially this puny little moment in your life when you press pause, look consciently back, and realize none of it all was really worth it.

_((((Do I look pretty in my brand new ivory dress? Look, I made my hair just the way you liked on her.))))_

Fate is a funny thing. Despite the phrase being ludicrously overused, we all shall come to the conclusion that carma indeed is a bitch.

This moment came in my life. A little late, maybe. But it 's now. Right now that my gaze stays apathetic and fixated upon your falling tears. Heavy from the thick layers of fancy makeup, protected by my shimmering facade of beauty, I am contemplating on the past few years and a weird idea has dawned on me. Nothing I've done in my life can count as any kind of decent accomplishment. Years upon years have passed with my head wrapped around the blurry notion of now, the elusive chimera of what I couldn't and shouldn't have. It is at least epically hilarious that the concept chose this specific instanct to present itself.

In this brand new state of things, I find myself in a deep, almost eerie state of awareness, both internal and external. I can obviously see that you are sad,_ sad_ because you know that today our paths shall part, but there is also something else, a faint glint of relief, the spark within the stare of a child playing truant on a busy day. No need to hide it. Don't feel sorry. It's nothing to worry about.

I am mad at you nonetheless, dear.

_((((I think I even lost some weight. Look, I know you are devastated, but I 've really tried to look my best today, so try to cheer up for me!))))) _

Your lips are moving frantically, wrestling with one another as you restlessly lisp some lame confession of sorts. Our friendship. Right. The moments we shared together. Hell yes. Even today, of all possible days since the beginning of time, you choose to proceed with your fucking generic preaching. You so think this makes up for the whole mess, huh? You still think silly me should_ fall for it._

Stinking senseless idiot. Bloody fool.

There is rage seething within, so much so that I choose to freeze my eyeballs on the unmoving clouds, because I'd claw your face if we exchanged glances now. The sky is almost black, gloomy and unforgiving like a wrenching heartbreak. The atmosphere is getting suffocating, so much so that my new clothes are damp and cause my skin to itch.

My new clothes. This stupid stuffing that is supposed to make my body look less _emaciated._ Fucktards. I spent innumerable days having nothing but coffee and apples, countless hours feeling my ribs in front of the mirror, searching for any sign of progress. They go and ruin it, pushing all those cursed rags underneath the dress, 'cause that's_ their_ idea of "nice-looking".

Of course my opinion went unnoticed, as it casually does. But I wanted to be fabulous. Hourglass -shaped and petite, like her.

Sally Acorn.

A royalty with a painstaking face and a perfect figure- now, who wouldn't choose _that_ over the chubby, obsessive teenage girl of no actual importance? See, such a priminitive mental process, and yet, I 'd somehow convinced myself that we'd eventually end up together, classical fairytale style. All it took was supposedly more effort, more pushing, more chasing.

Why? Why waste a whole life like this? Why not try to be someone worthy of attention? You really think I should be the one to blame? Maybe. Maybe being paranoically lovestruck isn't exactly the ideal of female self-respect. But you're f_ucking Sonic The Hedgehog_, goddammit. The hero. The world-class speedster with eyes of pure evergreen.

And you saved my life. Once. Twice. Again and again.

Pretender.

I know it was a trap. You made me fall in love with you and subsequently fed your overwheening ego._ See this annoying lil' brat? She is bloody head over heels for me- and all I had to do was kill some silly robots for the show's sake! _

We sat next to each other at parties, spoke of all sorts of things. The music would drone on and my ears would get filled with the buzzing of your alarming presence. Gorgeous eyes. Sexy shoulders. Broad chest.

My hero.

And I gave up everything. Dreams. Goals. There was only the prospect of becoming a happy bride, living somewhere quiet, having kids. Three of them.

The chase started-relentless, devastating. I almost got myself killed numerous times, not only because of the dangerous aspects of being around the mad Doctor all the time, but also because I tried so hard to keep up that my muscles are almost gone now. Exhaustion, you see dear, has been my pet peeve since the age of eight.

Then, the unspeakable horrors. Our mutual friends that got lost in the neverending war. Heads chopped off, blood shed on the sidewalk, bombs tearing breathing beings to shreds. Went through all of this and returned virtually unscathed._ Because our supposed future marriage gave me courage._

But what was the almighty reward, Mr. Perfect? Was it the silver engagement ring of my dreams? Nope. Was it a confession under the dim light of candles? Noes. Was it even a fucking "thank you"?!

NOPE.

It was Sally. The bitchy, slutty, amazing -looking princess who never risked her life for your sake, and never intended to.

I already was in hospital when the news got spread. There was a needle infusing chemical substances into my organism so that my death could be slower and more painful. On the one hand there were those pathetic nurses begging me to eat, and on the other hand there was you, happily presenting yourself as an engaged man before the cameras, one arm wrapped around the infinitesimally tiny waist of hers.

You only bother to pay a visit when they were dragging my dead body out of the hospital room.

_THAT's how much you care._

You have it all. My life. My body. My self esteem. My youth. All to waste. Yesterday, at the morgue, when my entrails exited my body and entered it again, after countless tedious hours of having my contents checked like a purse, I kept having visions of you banging Sally. Naked skin upon naked skin, pushing yourself hard inside her, screaming in lust while I was having this awful "Y" scar sewed and made invisible for the funeral.

Is it any good, love? The sex with that clotheless hooker, I mean. Does she shave? Is she good at it? _I am dying to know._

Hahahahahaha. Gawdddd, I love that pun. I am dying to know, ya geddit?

And now the worms will eat my beautiful eyes, for your sake. And my skin will be gone in a few days, tendons already a sticky mass against decaying fabric. I was nineteen. We could've avoided all of this.

But for that skinny slut.

Nightfall is fast approaching, and my flowery bed is about to be sealed. It's getting dark and rain is imminent, what with all those ominous black clouds. Most people have already left. Only a handful remains, and it is somewhat of a pleasant surprise that you are among them, still weeping with those pretentious puffy eyes of yours.

Duh. At least you didn't bring her here. Just this once.

Not that I would mind taking care of her too. Violence for violence. Justice to an unjust death.

Sounds only fair.

Waves of pure bliss flood my ceased heart at the sound of your beautiful voice. You are begging them not to seal my coffin before you do something really important. There are red marks surrounding that astounding pair of orbs. There is so much rage and desperation within them.

Could it-

-could it be that you finally understand?

Because, darling, revenge is best served cold, and I am hiding a little surprise for you.

Okay, okay. Here it is. You don't have to cry like this. We can actually fulfill our destiny and be -you know!- _together forever. _Ιnterwined as one under this muddy soil for generations to come. Like real lovers do. Because I know that, deep inside, despite all those silly mistakes, it really could work between us.

There is enough room in these few yards of damp earth for the both of us, love.

It would be so_ perfect! _

You step up towards the coffin, caress the flowers away from my hair, palm rests upon my cheek and stays there. Don't fucking cry above my head. It will fucking wash the fucking make up off.

You know I am a fucking bruise underneath, right?

But it all stops mattering, because my dreamy groom finally leans in and whispers this much- wanted apology. It's a few spoken words, but means everything._ I. Am. Sorry._ There. It had been as easy as that.

Maybe all it took was to starve myself, and you suddenly realized who had been the right one for you since the beginning of this madness. Because -irony of ironies!- you lean in. God. You do lean in.

And...and...

...it's paradise. Absolution. Brushing your lips against mine.

I love you.

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><p><strong>Sorry for this. You deserved it.<strong>

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><p>My head jolts back and claims your lips through a lustful bite. Hands wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer. Blood oozes out of your lips.<p>

The distant sound of screams and the patter of feet as aloof figures run away. Pathetic cowards. At last, we are alone. The coffin is still gaping open as the sun dives behind the mountains.

C'mon, don't scream. You can't be such a baby- or else everything will be ruined. My plans. My dreams for us.

Stop struggling, I almost cut off your lip. There, see? A piece is already missing. I think I clawed and tore your right eyelid off at some point, but it doesn't matter since we'll soon be decomposed, melted down to nothing. Together.

Big patches of your flesh are soon torn off and hanging from your bones unnaturally. I didn't mean this to happen. I thought you'd love to be with me, just this once, but instead you decide to start this ridiculous fight and leave me with no other option. Why hurt a lady's feelings like this, again?

So, my thumbs, still slippery from this freakish mixture of meat and blood, press hard againts your beautiful neck, where the main artery resides.

You see, I mumble when your head falls lifeless to the side, there is this little secret. Now that I am dead your superb physical condition was no match for me. And now,

let's go to our new home.

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><p><strong>"...Amy? What happened?"<strong>

I can't look directly in your eyes, because we are engaged in a tight embrace and it's too dark down here.

**"Shhhh. You died, Sonikku. I killed you."**

The world above and around us falls silent after this simple remark. There is just the complaining bewail of a lonesome crow here and there, and your silent mourning sending firm shivers through my body. I know rage is smoldering within you. I was like that a few hours ago. You'll get to appreciate all this. You'll understand what I gave us.

In time, sweetheart.

For the moment, I am fiddling in the blackness in search of your face. Well go through this, together.

But don't be mad at me. Before our afterlife as newlyweds begins...

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><p><strong>Kiss me to our mutual grave.<strong>


End file.
